Musings of a Mother

I've come across some interesting, albeit, slightly humorous situations lately. Hopefully you will enjoy them as well. The first was a phone call with Medtronic, the company we get Sydney's supplies through. When you call medtronic they do the usual question/answer session to make sure you are who you say you are. I'm fine with that. Another question they always ask is what Sydney's most recent blood sugar number was. This is how this particular conversation ensued...

Medtronic: Thank you for verifying that information for me. May I have Sydney's last blood sugar reading.

Me: Sure. She was 38.

Medtronic: Oh that is low. Did you treat that low blood sugar.

Me: Nope. We are actually betting on her. We want to see how low Syd can go before she passes out. So far she's hanging in there like a champ! 5 more points lower and I win 50 bucks!

Medtronic: Excuse me?

Me: Of course I treated the low blood sugar! That's a stupid question. Why do you feel the need to even ask that? If we are done with your swell questions, can I ask you mine?

Medtronic: Ummm. Sure.

The second situation has me pondering my 3 year olds thought process.

We were at the store in the produce section. I was trying my best to sneak between the tomatoes on one side and the bagged salad on the other---needing to ultimately reach the baby carrots stationed just out of reach. Unfortunately there was a very, *very* large gentleman (At least 400 lbs) in a motorized wheelchair taking his time to pick out some tomatoes. I decided I wasn't in a hurry. I would just wait my turn. However, each tomato this man picked appeared to be going through some type of stringent interview process. He carefully rubbed each one all over, sniffed them, held them to the light to check for who knows what and, I am not joking, rubbed one of them on his cheek. I was beginning to get slightly impatient and uncomfortable as I wondered if the man wanted to eat the tomatoes or date them. Finally Morgan, in an exasperated tone said, "Mom what are we waiting for?"

I replied, "We are waiting for this man to finish getting his tomatoes so I can grab our carrots."

Morgan turned, looked at the man, glared, and in a feisty tone said, "He looks like he is going to pop mom. Is he like gonna explode or sumthen?" (that's how morgan says it.) I, obviously, was mortified and quickly turned away. I didn't need carrots that bad. Kids say the darndest things.

So take this as my public apology to the heavyset man in the motorized wheelchair caressing his tomatoes in, what can only be assumed is, a legal gesture? Although I'm not completely convinced of that.